Normal is Boring
by Enula
Summary: "Because you're the one that walked into my life and made me realize why nothing else ever worked out before." Tandre
1. Little Things

_AN: I want to dedicate this story to jjohnson612. This may not exist if she didn't act so excited about me writing a Tandre. The song they sing is snippets from "Little Things" by One Direction. If Liquid Courage or Unaware are names of real groups...I am unaware and picking those names was unintentional. This will probably turn into just a short ficlet...maybe with just 2 or 3 chapters. Enjoy!_

**Normal is Boring**

I don't know how it happened…or maybe I do.

Everything was going so…normal. For once, things just felt normal.

"What happened?" He asked. The question that changed everything. I tried to ignore it at first, as I hid my face in my hands.

"Normality." I answered, and I knew he would understand. He always understood.

"Normal is boring." Oh, those famous words…the words he used to tell me I was special all those years ago. When I felt like I didn't have what it took. When I was about to let the meanest girl in school shake my dreams. She was his friend first. And yet…he took my side.

Why?

"I know," I respond, because it's true. My life had become normal, but it was such a comfortable normal that I never complained before. "But I just freaked when he asked me to go on tour to be the opening act…"

By _he, _I meant Mason Thornesmith. He had informed me that the band, Liquid Courage, heard my voice and wanted me to be their opening performance. "Your name will be on the tickets," he said. "It'll give you instant fame," he said. "This is what you always wanted," he said.

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity," my best friend reminded me.

"Yeah, but there's still school…and normal teenage stuff…and our song we need to perform next month for our last Full Moon Dance…"

And how many _lasts _will I truly experience?

"You're gonna pass a tour up for that? I can always go solo, ya know," No…I didn't know, "Or recruit someone else for the part."

That didn't fly well with me. Could I be so easily replaced?

Suddenly, it hit me. If I couldn't stay here with him, he could go there with me.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close to me, "Come with me and I'll do it."

His face twisted in confusion, "Hey, he asked _you, _not _us."_

"I'll convince him! I'm good at convincing!"

He chuckled softly and wrapped his hands over mine in attempt to ease my grip, "You're not convincing me that you're sane right now."

"The only way I'm gonna stay sane is if you agree to come with me!" I counter, knowing in my heart of hearts that I will eventually get him to consent.

But he only sighed then, "How 'bout we talk to Mason first?"

So we did. No big deal. After performing a few of our songs together, Mason said he would pitch the demo to Liquid Courage and their manager to see what they said.

And the next thing I know, we're riding in the back of a tour bus. Though the band is great, they have their own thing going on while we sit against the wall and try to write new songs.

"Da…dadada _daaa…." _His melodic voice flows through my ears as he tries to get a beat going.

I urge the inspiration on: "_Mmmhmm…_mmm, dadadada…d_aaa…"_

He bobs his head to the rhythm, "There ya go," he plays a few notes on his keyboard. We're sitting so close that our shoulders are touching, and I feel the movement of his body as his fingers glide across the keys.

I licked my lips as my eyes watched his fingers, my hand gently tapping my thigh, "I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth…"

A smile lit up his face as he glanced over at me, "All right…" He played a few more notes before he joined me in singing, "But if I do…It's you…"

"Oh, it's you…" his gorgeous voice sings solo, the tune suddenly becoming haunting to my ears, "They add up to…dada da mmmm…" the chorus faded off as our lyrics came to a temporary end.

The rocking of the bus along with his voice made me tilt my head to rest on his shoulder, fatigue overcoming my excitement.

"Why did you want me to come along so badly?" I heard him ask.

I close my eyes, "You don't need to know. If you did, you already would."

I don't know if I'm glad or disappointed that he accepts my words so easily. I feel myself fade into a content slumber as he continues to hum and play.

When I open my eyes, we're standing backstage waiting to make our grand appearance. My hands are sweating but I still wish I had a microphone to hold instead of the one that's attached to my head. He grabs my hand anyway, and I can't help but feel relieved when I realize that his hand is as sweaty as my own.

"You ready?" he asks.

I'm shaking as I smile, "As long as you are."

And then I hear the crowd screaming, and there're people for miles and miles, and I'm suddenly aware of how very tiny and distinct I am.

But not so very distinct. I'm here with my best friend and our voices sound beautiful together.

And the people love us. I never realized that a sound so loud could be so silent. Maybe that's the real definition of _deafening. _You don't truly experience that until you're standing on a stage in front of a million people. And I'm so glad I got to experience that with him…

We were such a hit that the band invited us to their after party. Liquid Courage started to really interact with us and asked us what we called our two-person team.

We both stuttered over each other's words for a minute, but knew we wanted something to give as an answer.

"Thee, umm…Dynamic…" he started.

"The Dynamic Duo!" I finished quickly, ignoring the disgusted look on his face. Whatever. It's only temporary. We'll think harder on it when we're alone.

He asked me about it later though: "So we're sticking as a team? No solo?"

I didn't turn toward him, "Do you want to go solo?"

There was only a small pause before: "I would choose you over solo any day."

I didn't respond, because there was no way he didn't know I felt the same. I'm the one that forced him to come along in the first place, after all. How couldn't he know how I felt?

I told him a piece of this that night as we stood on the balcony of our hotel room. The busy city lights were still aglow despite the time, but I guess that's why they call it The City that Never Sleeps.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you," I say, sipping slowly on my glass of wine. We were still too young to drink, but the wine came complimentary with the room, so we figured why not?

"Liquid Courage choosing you had nothing to do with me."

"I wouldn't have said yes if you didn't come."

"Will you give me a straight answer this time if I ask why?"

I shrug, "You can always try."

He looks at me over his own glass of wine. I try to meet his gaze but it's too strong. I need to look away. I take another sip of red wine.

"Why?"

I must have been expecting this question too eagerly because words quickly spilled from my mouth: "Because you're the one that walked into my life and made me realize why nothing else ever worked out before."

He took a large gulp of wine on that note, "We writing a song that I'm unaware of?"

"Could be," I consider, trying to think if maybe I did pull the line from a song.

Nodding, he clinked his glass against mine, "Then that's our name. Unaware."

I giggled, and I almost hated myself for giggling like I did. Was I drunk or something? "Catchy."

He smirked and I nearly melted. I looked out at the city of lights one more time before turning on my heel to head back into our room. Standing out there with him…thinking about how people may have viewed us up on stage…it couldn't be trusted.

And we've come too far to mess that up now.

But he grabbed my wrist before I could walk away, and when I turned my head to look at him, my hair that fell like silk over my bare shoulders suddenly made me aware of my body. He only had to give me a look…just one deep look…and my feet were pivoting to join him once again at the railing.

"It's three in the morning," I remind him.

"We can sleep on the bus tomorrow," he says to excuse the time, "But we only have now to enjoy this."

I smile and nudge his shoulder gently, though it's only an excuse to get our bodies touching again, "Sentimental much?"

"If there's one thing you need to remember on this tour and for the rest of your life…remember to slow down and enjoy the little things," As he said the last two words, it reminded me of the song we were currently working on together, causing my lips to pull, "Your life will never be normal again."

A sip of my wine, then: "A wise man once told me that normal is boring."

"Hmm…might have to meet this man one day," he jokes with me as he wraps a warm arm around my shoulders. "Does this wise man have a name?"

I bite back a bigger smile, "I'm unaware."

"Ah, but see…you're only half of Unaware. The other half of Unaware is all me."

I give a short chuckle, trying to hide my smart remark behind my glass as I take a quick sip after, "Only half?"

"Care to elaborate your meaning?"

"_Naaahhhh…" _I say as my face scrunches up because I drank too much wine at once and the bitter taste was lingering too long on my tongue and in my throat.

I think he noticed that I was trying to down my drink. So he dropped the conversation.

We didn't end up finishing that song for a couple more cities. We wondered if we should sing it on stage, however. It was a slower song, and our job was to get the crowd pumped up for Liquid Courage. But when we pitched it to the crew and their manager, they told us to go for it.

"Worst that can happen is the crowd hates it. But if they boo you off stage, Liquid Courage will go out and make 'em happy again. Problem solved."

Not sure if that really raised our confidence. But whatever because I had him and he had me and if they didn't like us, then at least we had each other.

_"Your hand fits in mine…Like it's made just for me…" _I hear Andre's voice echoing in my ears as we step on stage again and he begins the song…our song.

He takes my hand for effect, and I can't help but get goosebumps as I hear my own voice resonate in my ears: _"But bear this in mind…It was meant to be…"_

Though it was silly, I just then became very aware of the lyrics and what they meant to me and what they may mean to anyone in the crowd. Something I learned about myself: my mind goes on autopilot while performing. I don't even realize the song is over until the last line escapes through our lips:

_"It's you…It's you they add up to…I'm in love with you…and all your little things…"_

And then I'm wrapped up in his arms backstage again. I'm vaguely aware of him repeating _We did it, we did it, we did it _in my ear, but my heart is still trying to come down off of a high I wished I never got used to. We were both sweating and our clothes clung to our skin like a second layer, but it somehow felt good.

I could hear the band out on stage: "Give it up for Unaware! Their name definitely describes them, don't you think? Can you believe those two are just friends?"

The crowd went wild with shouts and whistles and applause.

But I try to ignore all that for now and focus only on my high. It looks like he's trying to do the same.

We focus on this for a whole six months. Traveling in a tour bus and sharing a hotel room every day and every night is starting to make me miss my personal space. Living with him was getting harder and harder, if only for the sole reason of that awkward tension.

Even after all those years of being best friends, this was taking everything to a whole new level. He was there for every meal I ate, and I was there for every shower he took. He was there for every cranky tantrum I threw, and I was there to see every crazed fangirl. He was there to hear every word I spoke, and I was there to listen to all his responses.

I'm sure I talked in my sleep. I don't think my mind shut down the whole time we were on the road. I heard his haunting tunes in my dreams, and he told me that he heard my voice singing to him in his dreams. Whether we liked it or not, we became a bigger part of each other than we ever thought possible.

Truthfully…I like it.

I think he likes it, too.

Then…I don't know how it happened…or maybe I do.

I remember dancing on my hotel bed and singing into my hairbrush. I was wearing a loose shirt with pink sweatpants and my hair was a wild mess. We had seen each other so much worse that it didn't even matter.

I don't even think I was singing a real song…or anything that could be made into a real song. And my dancing merely consisted of me jumping and running around the corners of the bed.

But he was sitting against his headboard and laughing like I haven't heard him laugh in awhile, and that was all that mattered.

Then I did a dramatic, splitting jump over to his bed and whipped my hair all over the place as I breathlessly laughed and sang and swallowed dryly. My legs were feeling weak from all the exertion I was using, but when my knees gave out, they landed on either side of his legs and my shoulders slumped forward despite my continuous laughter.

I was very aware of his hands on my hips to help calm me down.

My breathing was labored and my hair was sticking to my forehead, so I stuck my hairbrush out to him and asked in broken increments, "And what did…you think…of that performance?"

He put his lips close to the brush, but kept his stare on me, "Encore."

I groaned as I threw my head back as if I was completely exasperated, but all that was forgotten when I felt his right hand travel from my hip and up my back to my neck. He pushed against it and as soon as I lifted my head, he crashed his lips onto mine.


	2. Forever

**Normal is Boring**

**II.**

I was so surprised that my only reaction was to push myself away from him. He had his eyes closed and I wondered if it was because he didn't want to look at me. I felt too unstable and nervous and dumbfounded to look at him either, so I got myself off his bed in a hurry.

"Sorry, it's…been awhile…" He says this, and the words seem so awkward and out of place for what just happened that I force an ironic smile.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to respond to this so instead I ask him if he wants a glass of wine. He answers by asking if we could just drink from the bottle.

Taking swigs straight from the bottle sounded good to me, so after uncorking it, I tilted the opening up to my lips and drank a large amount of the bittersweet liquid. I then climbed over him as I passed him the bottle. Sitting next to him against his headboard, it felt weird that there was nothing either one of us wanted to say.

"Cheap," he stated after taking an equally long swill. He passed it back to me. I glanced at the name of the wine. Cabernet Sauvignon. Fancy. I made my voice nasally as I tried to put on some over the top French accent (though I doubted the wine was French). I took another drink as he snorted at my pronunciation attempt.

He took the bottle from my grasp and drank then asked: "What are we doing?"

"Underage drinking some cheap ass wine because we're badass musicians now."

He told me he liked my double usage of the word _ass _and I politely thanked him.

Within a few minutes, we had drunken the whole bottle of wine. How did that happen? He dropped the bottle onto the floor and the thud that echoed in and out of my mind made me close my eyes and crack my head against the board behind me.

"You dropped the bottle," I told him, "You're so drunk."

And it wasn't like I didn't continuously think about that night for the next few weeks. Our first tour together would be coming to an end shortly, but we maintained what we had before because it was the easiest thing to do.

One morning when I was on my way to get some coffee, I came across a newsstand and I know usually the news is such a bore, but the headline caught my attention because it featured Liquid Courage.

I was able to skim the article enough to know that the tabloids were calling him and I _The New Sonny and Cher. _

_I Got You Babe _briefly went through my head but it stopped when I was threatened with either buying the paper or leaving. I dropped it back onto the pile.

I regret not keeping that paper to this day but it doesn't even really matter because I remember it. I never told him about it, but I think he knew about it because that was just how he was.

A few nights after I saw the paper, however, I asked him if he had heard anything. Without even asking what this anything could possibly entail, he answered with: "LC's manager said he would like to present us with a contract."

I stared at him for a long moment, wondering if he was joking with me, but I should have known better because he doesn't joke about stuff like this, "Why would he just tell you?"

"He said he didn't want to hear you scream in his face."

"Fair enough," I accept quickly as I then proceed to scream with an excitement I didn't know I had in me. I felt his strong shoulders under my grip as I bounced flamboyantly, glad that I had a moment in my life that seemed acceptable to use the word _flamboyant. _

Grabbing my hands in his, he dropped our hands in between us, "So I guess you're in?"

I could have punched him for even asking, but I let it slip as I agree with vigor.

"This calls for…a celebration!" I raise my arms above my head and wiggle my fingers. I shimmy around our room because my mind is way ahead of the situation and I can't even think about what club we could possibly go to.

So he turned on the radio and cranked it up to a level that would no doubt be disturbing to the other guests. But until we got told to turn it down, we kept it as it was and didn't even care. And when old school *N sync came on, we only had to give each other one look before we performed the whole choreographed dance to _Bye Bye Bye. _And who cares if it was lame, because he had a much better voice than those other five guys and I loved hearing his version.

His voice was so smooth and perfect, and that was why I had no choice but to shut him up by kissing him. As soon as I did, I knew I had to grab the wine again, but he knows me too well and kept our lips locked before I could escape.

My world went from vertical to horizontal in a matter of seconds, but I found that life was much more enjoyable the latter way. His weight was on top of me, but it was surprisingly comfortable and I didn't want to think about how that was possible.

As soon as his lips left mine to trail down my neck, I opened my mouth to speak but he promptly bit my skin which only allowed me to gasp.

"Don't speak," he ordered, his lips still on me, "just go with it."

I wasn't sure how I could argue with that logic, so I did as he commanded. I wasn't sure if the blood pounding in my head was louder than the music, or if there was a different pounding that was trying to stop what was happening.

I'm assuming he must have been in the same state of mind as myself, because it took both of us some time to realize that a manager was beating on our door and demanding that we turn the music down and asking if we were aware that it was after midnight.

He left me because he had to, turning down the radio as he yelled _sorry! _through the door. The manager grumbled something about damn kids but then left, which I was ultimately grateful for, because he very well could have kicked us out or told our new manager to rip up any preexisting contract.

But as he stood against the small end table that held the radio, and as I stood by the side of my bed…no wait, it was his bed…it became very clear to both of us that this was not the right time, nor place, to do this.

"Should I try to start the mood again?" He asks, and I assume he's joking, so I force out a laugh and announce that I need a shower. He doesn't move from his spot as I gather my clothes and supplies and enter the bathroom.

What's nice about having a best friend is that they never bring up moments they know you don't wish to discuss. The two of us carried on as though the two kisses never happened and my own sanity questioned if they actually did. Surely something should have changed between us if they did.

Dreams are funny things.

Before I knew it, we were on our last tour night. We made our opening act a bit more bittersweet than was necessary…or maybe it was necessary. After all, when would we ever be performing before Liquid Courage again? We would one day have our own opening act, but that would be a whole other chapter in our life that was different than this one.

We could never go back. Only forward. And he seemed to understand this better than anyone I've ever known. Even myself. Which was good, because I needed him to understand this for me.

It was that night that I guess he needed to help me understand so he wouldn't be so alone.

I was taking a bubble bath because the hotel we were staying in had a huge tub that I couldn't pass up. I filled the tub up with Lavender & Chamomile because I wanted that to be the smell I always associated with this night.

My hair was pinned back so I could rest my head against the edge of the tub, and I'm pretty sure I was dozing off when I heard a knock at the bathroom door.

He called my name, "Can we talk?"

Snapping my eyes open, I look down at myself and see that my body is hidden by bubbles. I would normally have told him to give me twenty minutes, but he also normally doesn't ask to talk while I'm in the bathroom.

My voice sounds small to me as I tell him the door's open.

He opens the door but closes it quickly behind him so that the warmth doesn't escape. He takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and props a foot up on the edge of the tub. He doesn't look at me, which I think I am grateful for, and I wonder if he has a problem with me staring at him right now.

"You ready for it to end?" He asked. I can't remember if this was the first thing he asked me or if this occurred somewhere in the middle. Maybe the first half of our conversation didn't even matter, so I blacked it out.

"Every end is a new beginning," I quote, lifting my hand up that held a small tower of bubbles before I blew most of them back into the water.

"Are we continuing or beginning?" he asks, and I'm just overjoyed that he doesn't add _ending _as an option.

"Either one seems fine," I answer, because I'm too chicken to ask exactly what he means. I don't need to be guessing and I don't want him explaining this to me while I'm covered in Lavender & Chamomile bubbles.

He sighs then and finally lowers his head to look at me, "How I wish you'd give me a straight answer for once."

I splashed some water at him, "Don't be getting all snappy at me."

He placed his foot on the tiled floor and leaned forward, "Maybe I should _make _you give me a straight answer."

I giggle because I can't help but hear the seriousness in his voice and it makes me slightly nervous, though I think I'm more intrigued. I duck myself further beneath the bubbles when I become self-conscious.

"Maybe you should," I finally answer, thinking that just maybe I can get away with _that _being my straight answer.

But I saw the interest pass through his eyes and realized that he only took that as a challenge. And because I knew about him and challenges, I quickly tried to think of an escape route, but there was only so much I could do while being naked in a bathtub full of bubbles.

"Do you want to tour with me forever?" And his random question that I wasn't expecting at all throws me so far off that I sit up slightly and I know he can see the top of my breasts.

"You know the answer to that," I respond, but quickly realize that he was looking for a straight answer from me, and that just seemed wordy. So I swiftly redeemed myself by adding, "Yes."

"Forever's a long time," he points out, leaning back against the commode and propping his feet up on the side of the tub again.

I close my eyes and sink lower into the water again, tiling my neck to get as much of it as I could under water, "Not long enough."

And then we just sat like that for a long time. Until I announced that I was beginning to prune and needed to get out. He left the room without saying a single word, but that was okay because everything that needed to be said between us that night was already said.


	3. Fall in Love

**Normal is Boring**

**III.**

When we returned home from our tour, spending the night without him was completely strange and invoked a foreign feeling in the pit of my stomach and mind, but he was facing the same things so it wasn't too bad.

On our first night back, he came knocking on my front door at three in the morning and I didn't mind because it saved me the trip to his place. We stayed up until five drinking Belgium Hot Choco and flipping through silent TV stations so as not to wake anyone else up.

"Do you miss it?" He asks around the time we're beginning to fall asleep and I smile at him as all the memories come cascading down around us.

"All the time," I reply and consider adding another one-liner, but then decide against it, so I'm shocked at myself when I say it anyway, "I missed you."

He only nodded in understanding, "That's why I came."

I wanted to ask if it had anything to do with him missing me, but liked the idea of him being there for me instead of himself.

I played with the sleeve of his T-shirt because I think I was drunk off the Belgium drink. I ask him if he's planning on doing something so I never have to miss him again. His stare burns into my soul and I wonder if our close proximity is getting to him.

He answers yes, simply and plainly, and I'm way too curious to know exactly what these plans are, but he's not elaborating and my stomach is flying around everywhere except for where it should be. So I drop my head to the back of the couch and continue to stare at him, because looking away will not make him talk.

"There's an apartment available above the studio we'll be recording at," he states, his body turning toward me so my fingers drop from his sleeve to his chest, "It's small but—."

"Yes," I answer this time and I swoon over the smile he flashes at me.

I think I smile as well, but my eyes begin to flutter closed from being so tired and I wished I didn't drink so much hot choco. I hear him say that we're gonna have to stock up on our drink and I feel his hand run down the length of my hair.

"What else?" I ask as I tilt my head to rest in the palm of his hand and I think I'm making him tell me a bedtime story.

"Those glow-in-the-dark stars so we can stick them everywhere."

We both laugh at this, but my mind can picture our place perfectly and I find myself wanting nothing more.

"I want silly-string, too," I mumble as his palm then rests on the side of my neck and I can tell that it's the hand he used to hold his hot chocolate because the warmth is overwhelming.

"What about a piano bed?" I can feel his breath so close to me that I'm afraid to open my eyes. I'm not even sure if I'm still awake or not. I'm vaguely aware of asking him if that would be where we make our music and I hear him mutter a _damn _that is full of disbelief and torture.

His lips are on mine once again and my brain searched for a reason to split us apart but because I can't even think (and I blame the choco), he thinks for me and keeps us together because that's how he is.

"When we moving?" I murmur against his lips and I can hardly understand myself but I'm not too shocked when he understands me perfectly.

"Right now."

The words take my breath away and I can do nothing but agree with him. My fingers clench at the fabric of his shirt and I tug him closer, and I know it's bold but he seems to appreciate it for as long as I can recall until I feel his presence leave me. About time I open my eyes, he's already on the other side of the room sitting at the piano.

I was about to ask him what he was doing, but it became quite obvious that he got an inspiration for a song. And nothing interrupts those inspirations. But that was my first and main purpose for being in his life and I liked it that way.

His fingers played across the keys in a magical fashion, _"Dadada….da daa…so I can hardly relax or even oversleep…I feel as if I were home…some nights…when we count all the ship lights…"_

We moved into our small studio apartment the next day and placed as many glow-in-the-dark stars as possible around the whole place and I knew I would never care if we ever used actual lights again.

Once nighttime hit, we sat in the middle of our bare place (save the refrigerator and the microwave) and looked at all the glowing stars. He continued to add onto the song he started the day before and what we created there under the stars was something extraordinary.

_"I guess I'll never know why sparrows love the snow…We'll turn off all of the lights and set this ballroom aglow…" _

Upon his last words, I sat up on my knees and took in the larger stars in my view. I raised my arms out to the sides and pretended that I was a gliding and carefree bird because that's exactly what I was. I started to sing with his tune, _"So tell me darling do you wish we'd fall in love?" _I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned in close to him, _"All the time-…"_

He grinned and began a slightly different tune that got my heart pounding and my soul racing and my mind dancing. I jumped up and spun around under our stars, _"Time together is just never quite enough…"_

His gorgeous, melodious voice entered my ears and I spun faster, _"When you and I are alone, I never felt so at home…"_

_"What will it take to make or break this hint of love?"_

I became dizzy, not from spinning, but from our words, and I collapsed on my back beside him and my head rested near his keyboard so I could see the music he was producing floating through the air, my voice quickly following its soul mate, _"When we're apart whatever are you thinking of?"_

His voice took on a shape that filled up our empty room with everything, _"If this is what I call home, why does it feel so alone?"_

_"So tell me darling do you wish we'd fall in love?"_

He put his keyboard aside then swung his arm on the other side of me, and I could hear his palm press into the carpet beside my head.

"All the time," he replies to my question and I'm just glad that his answer matches mine so I grab his shirt again and pull him down to me. He willingly comes and I once again find that comforting weight on top of me and I never want to stop with him under our ridiculous amount of stars but it doesn't matter because we put all those stars there together.

We end up creating our music our first night on our living room floor and it was the kind that's worthy enough to say _damn _in disbelief and satisfaction, and I wouldn't have had it any other way because his voice sounded as beautiful as ever, and simply having the satisfaction of hearing it in my ear alone created a special engraving in my heart.

Afterward, when we're lying together and looking up at the dimming stars that held on for as long as possible to illuminate the room, he says to me, "Never change."

And I reply: "I'll never stop living our life our way." Because that's how it's always been and how it will always be.

We never do end up getting that piano bed, but he makes sure to keep his keyboard at the head of our normal bed and that adds enough to separate it from all the rest. We had to buy a nightlight that lit up a huge star in the middle of the ceiling so he could randomly wake up and play a tune or write down lyrics.

I didn't mind this setup because I did it a lot, too, and he made me feel like a little kid on Christmas because he would kiss me every time he liked my lyrics. And it wasn't like our normal kisses because he knew he had to reserve these kisses for a spectacular time to avoid the notion that normal kisses are boring.

Those certain words never came out of our mouth because I don't think we knew how to tell each other those words normally. We knew, so there was no reason to act like we needed reminded, but I do recall the time we tried our best to express ourselves out of music and bodies.

He said: "You're the peanut to my butter."

And I replied, "And you're the milk to my cookies."

"You're the words that I can't say."

"You just did."

And it was from that moment that it became quite obvious that we were never going to change but that was okay because we changed constantly together. We were someone else when we were together…someone more like ourselves, so we kept each other grounded in the air when we began touring for our debut album.

I think I missed our little studio apartment when we left but I figured it would always be there waiting for us, but I think I missed the stars more so we had to buy more glow-in-the-dark stars to stick all over our tour bus. Seeing the word _Unaware _amidst the stars seemed so strangely perfect that I wondered how I was so lost in the dark for so long.

"Do you think we should change our name?" I asked him one day on the road. Pieces of paper surrounded me that contained random lyrics from random times that I was trying to put together to make a song that made some sort of sense.

He didn't even look at me as he answered, "I'll never think that."

I cocked my head to the side and asked why but then he just said "Exactly."

I threw all the papers up in the air and found it almost tantalizing how slowly they all drifted back down to the floor. I caught his eye when I did this and there was something sparking between us as papers blocked and unblocked our view from each other but then it made me want to put a strobe light in our bus because that would make for some crazy times.

Instead of saying anything more, he continued to finger his keyboard and I found it strange how I became jealous over an instrument, so I did the only thing I could do which was crawl over all the papers until I reached him. I picked up the paper that landed by his side and read the few words that were on the page: "It is remarkable how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity."

But he only continued to play, "You fell asleep watching _The Matrix Reloaded."_

I crumbled the paper up and threw it behind me, "You think you know me so well?"

"Mmhmm."

"Then what am I thinking?"

Finally, he stopped playing and put the keyboard beside him. I'm glad I saw the sparkle in his eyes or else I would have truly thought he was annoyed with me, but I think he thought we were flirting, "You're thinking…" Then he raised his voice to do his poor impersonation of a female, "_Oh my_! He's not paying attention to me! I'm gonna throw that damn keyboard out the window!"

I glared at him but leaned in close to him, "I did not think '_Oh my_!'" Then I kissed him because he knew me way too well.

Over time, we learned even more about what it was like to travel together as a duet on and off the stage. I often had a hard time wrapping my head around how far we had come and how our lives became so entwined that I couldn't picture a time when he wasn't in my life.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

And that's the ending to my lil' ficlet! I know it's a weird way to end it, but hey...look at the title, right? The song featured in this chapter is my favorite song from the past 3 years called "Saltwater Room" by Owl City. If you never heard it, you better rush on over to Youtube and listen to it cause it's the best song ever in the history of songs.

I wanted to write this tonight because I'm devastated over the last episode of Victorious. It was the crappiest ending to a TV show I've ever seen. There was so much wrong with it that I'm not even going to get into it.

Anyway, I enjoyed writing this because it was a challenge for me. I never wrote this sort of story, known as a "rambling narrative" but I'm so glad I tried it, because it was kinda nice to break away from the traditional and accepted norm of grammar and structure. Tried to have the title really live up to its name. So thank you to all who reviewed! Now to focus on another story...another Tandre perhaps? Hmm...

_-Enula_


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